


Softcore Demons and Hardcore Angels

by tequilamockinbird



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, Biting, Bondage, Comedy, Edging, F/F, F/M, Hair Pulling, Ineffable Idiots, Ineffable Kinktober 2020, M/M, Multi, Pornography, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tequilamockinbird/pseuds/tequilamockinbird
Summary: Aziraphale asks Crowley to watch porn with him. As an ongoing educational project. Crowley is much flustered. Demonic bluescreen. Many ngks.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 117
Collections: Ineffable Kinktober 2020





	1. Biting

Crowley ambled the stairs in Aziraphale’s bookshop, carrying a mug of tea in his right hand and a mug of coffee in his left. Because the right hand was steadier.

Spending the night at Aziraphale’s had become a regular occurrence since they got their bosses off their backs, and he was aware of the intimacy of the gesture… ish. It didn’t mean anything, as far as he could tell. 

He had miracled from pajamas into his standard black ensemble, and he was very thankful for this when he turned the corner to find someone other than Aziraphale was looking over the angel’s shoulder at his desk.

His hackles went up. The man was dressed in a green suit with an easy smile and eyes that suggested an Asian background. He had grey around his temple, and thick glasses obscured wrinkles around his eyes, but he seemed middle aged. Leaning over him like that, with their faces only six inches apart, the stranger looked... unacceptable.

Instead of demanding who the hell this was, Crowley set down the tea, directly on the desk, no coaster. “Need anything else, angel?”

That often did the trick. The stranger straightened a bit but the easy smile did not falter. Smug bastard.

Aziraphale made a shooing motion. “Thank you, dear, but no, we need to finish up this consultation. Mr. Mangjoul has found a first edition copy of David Copperfield, if you can believe it, but I’ve never seen a book that’s been so abused.

“Good thing I rescued him,” said  _ Mr. Mangjoul. _

“Yes, indeed,” Aziraphale said.

_ Go rescue an actual abused child,  _ thought Crowley.  _ And then don’t bring them here. _

“Is that why he’s got you working so early?”

“Oh, Mr. Mangjoul is a busy executive, he doesn’t have time for my normal hours.”

_ What normal hours? I wrote that fucking sign for you. _

Was Aziraphale trying to  _ impress  _ this guy?

They were already back to discussing spine damage. Crowley stiffly turned away and sat himself on the sofa on the other side of the room with excessive force and a lot of huffing.

Jealousy wasn’t the right word. He’d misused it in front of Aziraphale once - talking about people jealous of the Bently - only to be told that jealousy meant feeling defensive of something you already had. If others tried to steal the Bently, Crowley should be jealous. 

The correct word for this was  _ envy _ .

At least he still had one proper demon thing down. Sinning.

When Mr. Mangjoul left, Aziraphale brought his tea over and chatted. By the time he returned to his work, Crowley was surprised to find himself relaxed.

Magical fucking angel.

It wore off as the day when on and Crowley spent it lounging in a chair. Maybe he should track Mr. Mangjoul down. Someone like that was bound to be on LinkedIn, with thousands of connections, no doubt. Crowley could dust off his corporate consulting website, sabotage the company. I mean, really, did he have to put his face that close to Aziraphale’s? It was transgressive, was what it was. This was a lot to ground to cover from his phone, and his laptop was on the coffee table in the back room, so he got up and walked and - 

Aziraphale was sitting with his back mostly to Crowley with some ratty paperbacks bookmarked beside him. The weird thing was, he was inspecting the back of his hand.

His pink tongue flicked out and he licked it.

Crowley bluescreened. What. Uhh. He must have spilled something on his hand. It was okay to open his eyes again. 

Aziraphale lifted his arm and - was he biting it? He was fucking biting it. Why the fuck was Aziraphale pulling a fucking ouroborous. Why. These weren’t actual questions because Crowley would never ask them, especially the big one, that one, you know, the  _ If he needed bitten, why wasn’t he letting -  _

Crowley must have shuffled his feet because Aziraphale turned. And jumped almost clear off his chair. 

“Dear Heaven, dear boy. How long have you been standing there?” His face was full of horror and dread but also something else, something that made Crowley feel less like begging for forgiveness.

Why couldn’t he be cool in this moment? He knew he should playfully ask, “Whatcha doin’?” or be all high and mighty and announce, “I think I have some questions for you.” 

All that came out, however, was, “Ngk.”

“Long enough, then.” There was something playful in Aziraphale’s grimace, a smile.

Crowley relaxed a fraction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

A sound clattered behind him as the sign flipped to Closed. 

“Come, sit,” Aziraphale said. “I have a problem I’ve been considering asking for your help with.”

Crowley took a breath. Of course there was a reasonable explanation for Aziraphale biting himself, one that had nothing to do with sex and the kinky places Crowley’s brain went. 

He leaned in with his hands folded together and shielding his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley nodded. 

“Alright. Well. I guess I should start by explaining that cutting ties with Heaven changed things for me. For one thing, the rest of my survival will be in this body. It’s me now. Something I can identify with.”

_ So you bite it? _

“And there are things about it I never quite came to understand. I didn’t want to, before, and now suddenly it has become rather important. Oh, I’m explaining this all wrong.” He stood to pace. “Let me start over. Breaking ties with Heaven changed thing. Let’s keep that part.”

Crowley’s discomfort was making Aziraphale uncomfortable. He needed to get it together. “Angel.”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you need help with, I’m sure I’ll do it. Relax.”

“See, you say this, but this is out-of-character for me, I’m afraid.”

He was still fussing. Crowley needed to goad this out of him. He smirked. “Out-of-character for you sounds like fun. Come on, blurt it.”

Aziraphale appeared to deliberate. “No, I can’t say it. Forget I said anything, okay? What were you coming in here for?”

Crowley took another breath and stared hard at Aziraphale. “We could dump it in the Thames.”

“What?”

“The body.”

“There’s no body. There’s not a body,” Aziraphale said from between clenched teeth.

“Hey, I’m not judging, accidents happen.”

“I didn’t kill anybody, Crowley!”

“Then is that the part you need my help with?”

“No, you ridiculous demon. We’re not killing anybody.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“Watching porn!”

Crowley had half a second to relish in his ability to tease out Aziraphale’s confidence, and then the words hit him. His proud smile froze. Did Aziraphale need porn for actual sexual reasons? And surely he didn’t mean they’d watch porn  _ together _ ?

“Interesting,” he said in what he hoped was an even voice. “Why?”

He had managed to voice his question. His confidence had boosted at some point, too.

“Because I don’t understand how doing things like biting and sucking result in pleasure. I need you to explain it to me.”

“I can explain that to you right now, no porn necessary. The back of your hand is not an erogenous zone. The most effective zones are gonna be places you can’t put your mouth without some intensive miracling, so you might consider finding -” He couldn’t believe he was saying this. “- a partner.”

Aziraphale seemed to consider this, eyes askance. He sat back down in his chair. 

Finally, he held up two fingers. “Two things.”

Crowley nodded. 

“One - It’s not just biting. It’s a lot of it. I tried to look on the Internet yesterday and there are so many things out there - kinks I’ve never heard of, words I don’t know.  _ Words I don’t know, Crowley. _ ”

Crowley couldn’t fight his smirk. “I get it, you like words.”

“And the other thing. I am already considering that. Which is why this is important. When I cut ties with heaven, I became free to pursue things I’ve always wanted. Like a relationship.”


	2. Distracted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo-ee, sorry about all the typos in Chapter 1. I hadn't slept in 22 hours.

“Like a relationship.”

Crowley suppressed the overwhelming urge to ask who Aziraphale wanted a relationship with. This entire conversation was probably his answer, right? Aziraphale would never ask this of the person he was interested in. He would never be that deceptive, or that daring.

Then again, this  _ was  _ the angel who rebelled against Heaven and didn’t fall.

Maybe. Maybe. 

Or maybe this was about Mr. Mangjoul.

He'd been quiet too long. He needed to think of something smartass to say. Fast.

“Does that mean I won’t be able to use your bed anymore?”

Aziraphale’s hands actually became fists for a second. “Crowley! Be serious, please. Of course it doesn’t. Just… Can you help me or not?”

Crowley nodded. “I’ll help.” It might very well kill him, but he’d do anything for Aziraphale. Damn it.

Now the only question was, what the hell kind of porn could he send Aziraphale that would actually impress him?

*

The more he thought about it, the less he thought Aziraphale meant they should actually watch porn in person together. So after two solid days of watching porn and at least seven wanks, once he finally found something he thought Aziraphale might like, he sent it to him via email.

_ Hey, Angel. I found something you might like. Watch and let me know if you have questions. -C _

And then he watched the video again.

A thin brunette woman crouched before a man in a chair. The man held up a paperback copy of Hamlet and started to read.

_ To be, or not to be--that is the question: _

_ Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer _

_ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune... _

The camera angle changed. The woman leaned in and took the man’s half hard cock between lush lips. 

The man stammered.

_ Or to t-take arms against a sea of troubles _

_ And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep-- _

_ No more--and by a sleep to say we end _

_ The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks _

_ That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation… _

On the word consummation, he groaned and the book almost slipped from his grasp. The woman sped up her efforts. 

_...Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-- _

_ To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub... _

The man’s voice hitched. If Crowley were to go down on Aziraphale like that, would he be as reactive?

_...For in that sleep of death what dreams may come _

_ When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, _

_ Must give us pause...  _

How this amateur film was managing to make a suicidal soliloquy sexy, Crowley had no idea, but it was. He overlayed the man’s voice with Aziraphale’s in his imagination, mirroring every hitch of breath. God, he wanted to make him sound like that. His mouth watered. 

_ There's the respect _

_ That makes calamity of so long life. _

_ For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, _

_ Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely _

_ The pangs of despised love… _

Crowley also had a fantasy he’d never admit to, one about reading out loud to Aziraphale, becoming a conduit for Aziraphale’s favorite thing, a part of that pleasure. In his imagination, the roles reversed, and he took himself in hand. 

_...the law's delay, _

_ The insolence of office, and the spurns _

_ That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, _

_ When he himself might his quietus make _

_ With a bare bodkin? _

The last word was gasped out, almost unintelligible, as the man came. The woman swallowed, and then lifted herself to messily kiss him before the film ended. 

In Crowley’s mind, he continued reciting the soliloquy, and came seconds after he finished. 

*

It wasn’t until the next day that Crowley got the phone call. It wasn’t like Aziraphale constantly checked his email.

He saw Aziraphale’s name on the caller ID and his heart skipped a beat. He answered nervously. “Aziraphale?”

“Crowley. Uh, how are you today?”

_ Horny for you.  _ “Evil as ever, nothing to complain about. Yourself?”

An annoyed huff. “Um, well, I got your email. And I did watch it, but um, there are a couple of things I want to say.”

“Questions?”

“No,” Aziraphale said cautiously. “Not about this one. You see, I’ve seen it before.”

Crowley’s knees went weak. He dropped into his throne chair. “Yeah?”

“This is meant to be a learning experience for me, an exploration of sorts. So I’d like to watch things you’re  _ not  _ so sure I’d like.”

“Um. Okay.” Definitely counterintuitive. “How kinky are we talking?”

“Whatever you like,” Aziraphale said quickly. “And I do think we should watch them together.”

Crowley choked a little. “Sorry, but… why? You’re exploring your kinks and everything, right? Don’t you want some privacy?”

A long pause. “Well, no,” Aziraphale said finally. “I suppose I don’t.”

It didn’t answer the  _ why  _ question, but Aziraphale was letting Crowley in on something private, and that put his heart in his throat.

“Unless you’re uncomfortable with it?”

“No,” Crowley said quickly. “No, it’s fine. I guess I’ll pick something out for next time I come over.”

“Oh, excellent,” Aziraphale said. “Maybe Wednesday?”


	3. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pornery, awkwardness, and misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catching up!

As much as Crowley tried to take "whatever you like" to heart, he couldn't help agonizing over picking the next porn. What if Crowley brought a favorite and Aziraphale hated it? 

He scoured his bookmarks for one he wasn’t too attached to, and Wednesday morning, he found something perfect - something with a bit of a story, something that wasn’t  _ too _ kinky.

He entered the bookshop after hours Wednesday night, laptop under his arm. His heart was pounding. There were times he almost felt completely comfortable around Aziraphale, no palpitations or jitters. But those moments were rare, and this was far from one of them.

But Aziraphale acted normal. He fluttered and stammered a bit, but that was to be expected. 

And then he sat on the other end of the sofa from Crowley instead of in his chair. That was not normal. 

Crowley gulped. “Are you wanting to watch…?”

"Yes, please, if you don't mind. Did you choose something?"

_ Choose _ . Not  _ find _ . Did that mean something?

He opened the bookmark and let the ad play at the beginning. The ad footage was sped up and obscene, lots of cum everywhere. Neither of them commented. 

A woman wearing nothing but heels appeared on screen. She stood in front of a concrete wall, arms above her head, wrists bound so high that her heels wouldn’t have touched the ground. 

“Let me go!” she said to someone off-screen. 

“Maybe if you tell us what we need to know,” someone with similarly bad acting said. “For now, you’ll rot in here.”

The light dimmed, and a door slammed. 

The woman whimpered, stumbling.

During the several times Crowley had rescued Aziraphale, if Aziraphale had been tied up so suggestively, Crowley wouldn’t have been able to resist leering in a very obvious way. They often caught each other staring intensely, it was just part of their relationship they never talked about. Crowley wasn’t sure it meant anything. But in that situation, drool might have been involved. 

He wouldn’t have touched him. That would have felt transgressive. But Satan below, it would have been tempting.

He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you glad they didn’t chain you up like  _ that  _ in the Bastille?”

_ Stupid, stupid demon.  _ Why did he have to blurt that? He needed to lighten the mood. “You even had the heels.”

Aziraphale’s shot him a quick glare. “You know, if I recall correctly, you were chained up similarly when I freed you from King Arthur’s dungeons. You weren’t stripped, but you were tied with your arms up like so.”

Shit, Crowley had forgotten all about that. Surely Aziraphale’s mind wasn’t going to the same places as his, though?

“I suppose I was,” Crowley muttered.

On the screen, the room brightened with a creaking door sound. 

"Let me go!" the woman shrieked again. 

"I plan on it," said a sultry male voice.

The woman smiled. "My prince!"

Aziraphale leaned in a fraction. Was he getting into the story? Bad acting and all? Crowley fought a snicker. 

A man with a uniform and a thin, lopsided crown came into view. "But I have to admit you're tempting like that. Shall we have some fun first?"

The camera angle changed, peering down next to them. 

"Yes," the woman said, heaving her chest toward him. "Have your way with me, my hero."

He unzipped his fly (a zipper, how historically accurate) and hitched up her legs around his waist. Wall sex ensued. 

Aziraphale leaned bacI with a slight scowl. 

"Questions, angel?"

"How does that not hurt her? That penis is huge, and I understand that the vagina stretches to accommodate, but would that process not be painful?"

Crowley sighed. "It can be. It's sometimes easier for women with experience. Realistic sex is a lot of trial and error with angle."

Wait a minute, was Aziraphale actually interested in a woman?

He seemed to think over Crowley's answer. On the screen, the actress was keening obsessively, pretending to orgasm. 

"That's not what a real orgasm sounds like," Crowley said. Just threw it out there. 

"What do they sound like?" 

_ Let me show you. _

Crowley shook off  _ that _ thought. "Different for everyone every time, really. In porn, they're usually unrealistically exaggerated. Some people don't make a sound, others are as dramatic as porn stars."

Aziraphale gave Crowley a look he couldn't identify. 

"What?"

"Um, how - How many…?"

The video ended awkwardly and abruptly. 

"Are you asking my body count?" Crowley asked. 

"What? What would that have to do with -? Oh. A turn of phrase. Well, I suppose, yes."

Crowley remained quiet a long time, debating how to play this. He decided to be honest. "I've lost count. But it's not a small number."

"That's a strange thing to lose count of," Aziraphale said skeptically. 

"Is it? I don't sleep with people for notch-on-the-bedpost reasons. My reasons are typically way too human. Physical satisfaction, yes, but also a moment of closeness."

"I get the picture," Aziraphale said quickly. 

It must have been TMI. Stupid mouth, running away with him. 

"Wine?" he asked hopefully, shutting his laptop. 

"Oh, yes," said Aziraphale. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm so behind, I've decided to cheat a bit. I'm skipping "Striptease" but hoping to work it in later in the story, after they're together. I couldn't make it work for them to watch a porno that basic. Tried for days.
> 
> To be honest, I'm not entirely happy with this one. In RAR, I was able to work in a lot of comedy, and for some reason this one's coming out way too somber. I'm working on it. 
> 
> I am going to catch up. I swear it. :3

  
  


Several glasses of wine later, after a discussion about bonobos, Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Can we circle around to my sex education for a moment?"

Crowley blinked five times in a row. Hopefully Aziraphale didn't think anything of it. "Bonobos could help with said education. But sure."

Aziraphale took a breath and swirled his wine. Crowley had to admit, seeing him thus nervous was cute. 

"Helping me - it's making you uncomfortable, isn't it?"

Shit. "I wouldn't say that," Crowley said cautiously. 

"Nonsense, you're not acting like yourself. If I wanted a companion who would be clinical and constantly serious about this, I would ask someone like that. I asked  _ you _ ."

"So what should I be doing?"

"Being yourself! Smartass and casual, you know? You watched that ridiculous dungeon rescue porn without cracking a single joke."

Crowley held up his hands. "This is a delicate thing you're trusting me with, I just don't want to offend you."

"You're not going to offend me," Aziraphale said. "I went into this fully expecting you to tease me."

Crowley choked. "Poor choice of words in this context, angel.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “I never choose words poorly. But what did I say?”

“Teasing is a sexual practice,” Crowley explained. 

“What, like a striptease?”

"No." Crowley steeled himself. "Have you heard of edging?"

"Like sidling?"

"Ah, no, like bringing someone to the brink of orgasm over and over so the end result orgasm will be better."

Aziraphale sat on the other side of the sofa from him and set down his wine. "And it works? My, that’s very interesting."

Crowley tried not to wonder if Aziraphale found this interesting from a scientific or personal standpoint.

“Wanna see?” he offered. And then as an afterthought, he gestured to the computer. 

“Why, yes, I think so,” Aziraphale said, sitting across the couch from him, wine glass in hand.

One of the first videos that came up in a search was one Crowley had seen before. A man stood naked with his hands behind his back and his face outside the camera frame. His very erect cock was varying shades of purple.

“Now, that’s an eggplant,” Crowley muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.”

A glistening hand came forward to stroke the man’s cock, but it couldn’t get in more than one stroke before the man jerked away with a whimper.

“He’s already been edged for a while, to make him that sensitive,” Crowley explained.

“Hmm.” Aziraphale leaned in with his elbows on his knees and a look of concern on his face. “Fascinating.”

Judging from the red in his face, his fascination wasn’t clinical. He was into this one. He was getting aroused in the same room as Crowley and Crowley knew it and there was nothing he could do about it. His hands itched. His fingers curled. His mouth watered. 

Wait. 

Was it really true that there was nothing he could do about it? He could do something. Make a move. He could try to kiss him, to move his hands down from Aziraphale’s face to the part of himself he was shielding. 

But of all the moments to try something like that, was the porn one of them. Was there a more natural way to segue?

The video ended, and Aziraphale straightened to look at Crowley. His gaze flicked aside. Satan, he probably looked like a creep. 

“Could you send me this?” Aziraphale asked. “There’s something I want to try.”

_ Holy Satan fuckery on a stick. _ “You wanna... try that?”

Shit. It sounded like an offer. It  _ was _ an offer.

“Someday, I think.”

Crowley sagged further into the couch in both relief and disappointment. The offer had gone right over Aziraphale’s head. It figured. 


	5. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's point of view. Drunken Crowley gets flirty.

The next week, they had been drinking for three or four hours, arguing about books (that Crowley hadn’t read) and their film adaptations (which Aziraphale hadn’t seen).

The conversation lulled. Aziraphale was too drunk to keep himself from staring at the lanky form draped over the sofa - one leg over the back. 

Suddenly Crowley said, “So why do you wanna learn about sex now after 6000 years?”

“I told you.” Aziraphale hiccuped. “I have freedom now.”

Crowley hummed. “Yeah, but there’s something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

Aziraphale had to look away now. His blood was starting to pound in his ears. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Crowley groaned. “Aw, come on, angel, we’ve known each other 6000 years and averted the apocalypse and took on Heaven and Hell together, I think that at least earns me some trust.”

“Yes, and that’s why you’re the one I went to for help.”

“Poppycocks. You came to me because I’m the sluttiest person you know.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Aziraphale said sternly. His blood was boiling on top of the pounding now. Surely Crowley didn’t think Aziraphale saw him like that.

From the sofa, Crowley looked up to find Aziraphale tuned back in, making eye contact. There was something tender in the expression Crowley couldn’t decipher. “Okay, fine. I won’t. If you tell me who’s caught your eye.”

“I will not,” said Aziraphale stubbornly. “I will admit that I do have someone in mind, but I am not ready to discuss it further.”  _ Please, please, drop it. _

“Mr. Man-jewels?” 

What? Oh, Mangjoul. “Maybe.”

Crowley looked up, and Aziraphale smirked. 

Mrs. Brown?” Crowley asked. 

A frequent customer. “Maybe.” 

"Book girl?"

"Maybe."   
  


“You’re fucking with me.”

_ I wish. _ Aziraphale allowed himself to laugh a little too hard. 

“Bastard. Have you told them?” Crowley asked. 

He sighed. “No.”

“You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed about not knowing this stuff. If they’re good for you, they won’t give you shit.”

“You give me shit.”

“Because you asked me to.”

“My point is,” Crowley said, and then seemed to choke and started over. “My point is, if you told them, they might be willing to walk you through this stuff.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, becoming well and truly exasperated. “I’m not insecure about having things to learn. I’m insecure about everything else. Being homely and stuffy and poor in character.”

“Poor in character?” Crowley swung his legs down to the floor and experienced a wave of dizziness. “Whoa, gimme a sec... but like, you’ve got buttloads of character. You’ve got character coming out your ass and your ears. Like, all your orifices.”

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale drily.

“And you’re not stuffy in any of the ways that anyone would mind, you’re open-minded as hell. More open-minded than Hell.”

“Crowley, I’m not saying this so you’ll comfort me -”

“And homely? Doesn’t that mean ugly? You are fucking not. If I saw you on the street, I would totally hit on you, you know that?”

God, did he mean it? Aziraphale wanted him to mean it. But he wasn’t ready for Crowley to know that.

“Crowley, really,” he admonished. “I’m just being truthful, you don’t need to say all this.”

“The fuck, I don’t,” Crowley said. “Wait, wait.” He pushed his hands down in a shushing motion. 

“What are you up to?”

“Let me focus.”

The noise of a crowd and bad bebop music replaced the classical music from the record player. 

Crowley drunkenly stumbled over to Aziraphale's chair and sat on the arm. So close. Way too close. Aziraphale could smell the wine on his breath. 

"Hey, beautiful, can I get you a drink?"

Aziraphale felt the heat rise from his toes to the top of his head. "What are you doing?!" he hissed. 

"Pretending to pick you up at a bar. Play along, angel." He almost fell off the arm of the chair. 

"You are absolutely hammered, aren't you?" 

"So? If you're gonna enter the dating scene, you're gonna have to learn how to flirt."

"I  _ know _ how to flirt, Crowley, this isn't -"

" _ You  _ know how to flirt?"

"It's been a while since I've needed to, but the basics never go out of style. Smiling, leaning in, eye contact."

Crowley smiled, looked him in the eyes, and leaned in. "Show me."

Aziraphale was sure he was redder than a tomato. "Fine," he managed. 

"I'll start over." Crowley cleared his throat. "Hey, beautiful, can I get you a drink?"

"Oh, if you insist," Aziraphale managed, smiling shyly. What was he doing?!

Crowley gently nudged his chin around with his fingertips. Was he really this forward at bars? "Those are some stunning blue eyes you've got there."

"Th-those golden eyes of yours are far more stunning, surely." Fuck, this was embarrassing. Embarrassing and yet precious. He took another gulp of wine.

"Oh, I doubt it. I don't think I've ever captivated anyone quite like you're captivating me."

A noise like a kettle coming to boil began to ring in Aziraphale's ears. "Crowley," he croaked. 

"How do you know my name?" Crowley asked, and then - holy God on a velocipede - reached over to you with Aziraphale's bowtie. 

He plowed ahead. "I think we need to sober up."

Crowley whispered in his ear. "Ah, so the night can proceed?"

"N-no, so you can stop doing things you'll regret later. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but you won’t like the fact that you did these things.”

Crowley huffed, smiling. "I'll have no regrets."

God, Aziraphale wanted to kiss him. He was so close. He could just pull him down and -

He got up from the chair. “I’m sobering up now.”

Crowley crossed his arms. “I’m not.”

“Then you can go upstairs to bed.”

Crowley’s expression turned mischievous. “Wanna -”

“Don’t you dare. Upstairs with you. Now.”

Crowley traipsed up the stairs, and Aziraphale collapsed back into his chair. Hopefully Crowley would sober up before he fell asleep and spare himself the hangover, but if he didn’t… he might forget his behavior tonight. 

Aziraphale could do the same thing. He didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep memories that Crowley lost. 

He pulled out a book and tried to read. 


End file.
